Cautiously Me
by ad-siderum
Summary: The year before, I had spent my days in my own introverted and, possibly, slightly depressed world. I barely cracked a smile or talked to any others. On top of that, I had managed to somehow convince myself that everyone that I knew hated me for some reason. This marching season, I was determined to change all of that.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own marching band :3 I take inspiration from my own life and the people I know but this story is not based solely upon true life events.

**A/N:** Let me know what you thought of this story and enjoy!

**Chapter I – June 26****th****, 1:51 PM**

I arrived in the band room for the first time that season and just like with everything, I began to group people. There were the "really band people" who would do nothing but help with organization and greeting the new members. They were super outgoing and within the band, were our version of the popular crowd. Then there were the cliques. Each grade had them and they had been best of friends since kindergarten back in elementary school. Once they got together, there was no way of breaking them apart to talk. There were the "too cool kids" who thought that they were better than marching band and I wondered why they were there. No one was forcing them to join and their lack of enthusiasm was rather uninspiring. They seemed to exist only for the purpose of bringing the band down. There were also the geeky band kids who all sat in their corner of the band room, united by their love of handheld video games, which was precisely what they were doing at the moment. Of course, there were also the Drum Line and Color Guard sub-cults and they were doing, well, whatever secret sub-cult activities they did. And then there was me.

I stood just inside the door, momentarily shocked by the crowded room. It took me a few moments before I realized that I was staring with my mouth hanging just about wide open. I silently cursed to myself, hoping that I hadn't quite blown any hopes of a new impression.

The year before, I had spent my days in my own introverted and, possibly, slightly depressed world. I barely cracked a smile or talked to any others. On top of that, I had managed to somehow convince myself that everyone that I knew hated me fore some reason. This marching season, I was determined to change all of that.

I removed myself from my original stupor and made my way around the edge of the band room. I found a chair near the back where everyone seemed to be congregating. I stood up and went towards a stand that everyone seemed to be gathering around.

"Do we need to check in or something?" I asked. My voice came out small and timid.

"No, we'll do that later." One of my band's three drum majors answered my question. I knew that she was trying to be helpful but I couldn't help but notice the condenscending tone that she just barely masked. I smiled back at her.

"Alright, thanks." I detested myself at that moment. No matter what I did, I always managed to portray myself as someone who needed to be pitied. I checked the clock behind me. There were still seven minutes before marching band camp was to start; too long to be sitting on my chair all alone.

I got up from my spot and made my way to the bathroom. I should have gone there first thing when I realized that I had gotten to the school early. I dived into a stall and sat down on the seat. I couldn't believe that I had reduced myself to this. Using the bathroom as an excuse to avoid a social situation was quite a low, even for me. I checked my phone frequently but time seemed to stand still in my boredom. Finally the time came for the camp to start and I pretended to flush the toilet just in case anyone else was in the bathroom with me and was paying attention. As I reentered the band room, I was relieved to spot one of my friends standing amongst the rest of the band. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from off of my chest and I found it easier to breathe again. I had a few friends in band and now that they were starting to arrive, I was finding my goals for the season becoming more and more achievable.

I broke into a smile and walked up to my friend. "Hey! Sydney! How's it going?" I asked.

She turned and waved at me. "Liz! I haven't seen you in forever! How's your summer been?"

I laughed at that. We had barely been out of school for a month. I proceeded to tell Sydney exactly what I had been up to so far that summer when I could tell that she was getting bored. I supposed that a short, nondescript "good" was all that was required as a response, so I changed the subject.

"Pumped for marching band?"

She gave me a look and stuck out her tongue. "Eh."

"Come onnn…" I teased. "You have to, at least, be excite to start boot camp! It's the best week of the year." Sydney only rolled her eyes at my dry humor.

I was running out of things to say but was relieved when I spotted two more of my friends walk through the door. "Olivia! Becky!"

They made their way over to us and we stood in a circle, talking about almost everything. Just like usual, Olivia was in her grumpy mood, complaining about something or the other. Before she got too out of hand, Becky would jump in with some smart-ass comment that would stop Olivia from continuing any further and send us all into fits of laughter.

A sound of clapping came from the front of the room where one of my school's band directors was standing upon the podium. "Band! Atten-hut!" he shouted.

Reflexively, my head tilted upwards, I turned to face the front of the room, and my feet positioned themselves at a 45 degree angle with my heels touching each other. After a few uncertain responses of "hut", the room fell silent and the other veteran marchers snapped to attention as well. Only a few foolish newbies still talked as if they were oblivious to their surroundings.

"I called you to attention," my band director, Mr. Reed, said. "I should be hearing no talking and everyone's eyes should be on me." Gradually, the conversations petered out and the room was unnaturally quiet. "Thank you. We'll start heading out to the field now. Bring your sunglasses, water bottle, and sun screen."

He stepped off of the podium and the band room returned to its former state of chaos. Over the ruckus, one of the Drum Majors shouted, "That means no instruments!" Her voice was almost swallowed and most people took no notice to her anyway.

I looked over to my friends with a groan this could only mean one thing; fundamentals. I didn't understand the point of all this. I already knew how to march, so why did I have to go through this? Instead of teaching the veterans things that we already knew, we could be using this time to go over the new drill charts for this season. The newbies didn't really even need to learn how to march. Last year, I had been one of the newbies on the field and I wasn't able to make these first boot camp practices. I just watched what everyone else was doing and before long, I had gotten the hand of this marching thing.

We walked out to the field and to my dismay, I could already feel the intense heat radiating off of the turf and the surrounding track. There was a sliver of shade in front of the bleachers and I set my water bottle down in it. I had already drunken more than half of it and the water was already warm. It's not like I'd have much time to drink it, though. It was a rare event for my band to get a water break. For the three hours that we would be practicing, I predicted that we would only get to stop once.

My friends and I had gotten to the field early and while we waited for the last of the band members to show up, we resumed our usual chatter. We were in the middle of planning a talk show for a YouTube channel that none of us actually had. It would be called Sparkles and Feathers, named so creatively after our glorious plumes. To this day, I still wonder how someone came up with the idea of attaching feathers and little sparkly strands onto a rod and then sticking it on top of a hat. I do enjoy playing with the plumes when I get bored, so I wasn't complaining.

Mr. Reed finally got to the field and once the microphone and speakers system was set up, he directed everyone to go onto the field and stand around in a circle. It was just so convenient that there was a large circle mark in the center of the field that we all could fit around. Then came the grueling next hour where I stared at the person directly across the circle from me. All while trying to develop a good distant stare while snapping to attention, back to parade rest, and marking time.

We all envied the drum majors who got to patrol around the circle while giving us the beat by hitting two drum sticks against each other. The three of them also had the pleasure of correcting us as often as they liked.

_Being corrected is for newbies,_ I thought and pushed myself to work even harder. There was no way that I was going to be told that I was marching the wrong way. Sure enough, my hard work paid off and not one of the drum majors or any other of the marching band staff came to correct me before we finally stopped for water.

"Better enjoy this while it lasts," I said as I sat down in that sliver of shade. Not that it would do any good to cool me off. I could already feel my face begin to burn up and I knew that my cheeks must resemble a tomato more than actual human skin.

Olivia attempted to fan herself off with her hand. "This heat is going to kill me."

I grimaced. "At least this is only Illinois. Imagine if we lived in Arizona."

Olivia had sprawled out on her back. "I'd be dead for sure."

"Or you could just have a really great tan," Becky said.

"I'd probably die from UV rays first, or whatever that science-y stuff is called," Olivia said.

Before we had a chance to say much more, Mr. Reed once again called us to get back on the field. I sluggishly stood up, feeling more like a zombie than an actual human being. It's all for game night, I reminded myself. It will all be worth it on game night.

"Line up in rows of eight," Mr. Reed said. My friends and I managed to secure part of one of the back rows. "We'll be practicing our 8 to 5 steps first. I want every row that is not on one of the yard lines to step forward and fill in the spaces between the people in front of you." After a few confused looks were shared down my line, we stepped forward and I found myself in between two newbies.

After Mr. Reed gave his speech about the 8 to 5 step and its uses in marching band, the beat started and we made our way across the field, taking only five yards at a time.

"Hey, you've done this before, haven't you?"

I looked up and saw the newbie to my right looking down at me. I usually consider myself to be an average height, but looking up at him made me feel like I was barely five foot.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "And you haven't, right?" I didn't realize how stupid that must've sounded to him as soon as the words left my mouth. I grinned a bit, trying to make it seem like I had just cracked a joke. He must've fallen for it since he too smiled a bit.

"So this 8 to 5 step. We're not really going to use it much? It just seems so ridiculous measuring our footsteps all the time."

"You got it. The only times that I've ever used it was during practices like this one."

The newbie laughed at that and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Ryan."

I took his hand and shook it. "I'm Liz." It wasn't until this moment that I realized that I was talking to a guy. Me, who had been terrified of talking to guys for so long, was doing just that. Even though Ryan was only an average looking guy with slightly disheveled brown hair, my tongue still felt like it had been slowed with Novocain. "I'll be a junior next year," I said in an attempt to keep the conversation going. "You'll be a sophomore, right?"

I looked back at Ryan. _This wasn't so hard_, I realized It was just talking with someone who might be a friend. Definitely not scary at all.

"Actually, I'm going to be a senior."

"Set," Mr. Reed called and the band returned to attention.

"A senior?" I repeated in a whisper.

"Yeah."

"Transfer student?"

"Nope. Just new to marching band." That did make a lot of sense. At my school, the freshman band wasn't allowed to march, the concert band had an option whether they wanted to march or not. My band, Symphonic band, was required to march. Once I had gotten out of the freshman band, I skipped over Concert and made my way into Symphonic. The only Concert band members that I knew were those who were either in my grade or in marching band.

"So you finally decided that marching band was cool enough for you," I teased.

Ryan only laughed. "Something like that."


End file.
